Tape 7
by aliienprophet
Summary: Based off of the book Thirteen Reasons Why. / I guess this thing is working. Okay, intro. Lets go. Hi. I'm Stan Marsh. I'm seventeen years old. I live in South Park, Colorado...and...hm...what else...Oh yeah! And if you're listening to this, then congratulations. You're one of the reasons why I'm not here anymore. You're one of the reasons why I killed myself.
1. Tapes 13, 12, and 11

**Okay, please please please read, or at least skim over this.**

 **This story is based on the book 13 Reasons Why, and if you've read it, then you're good. But if you haven't read it, its about a girl who committed suicide and sent out tapes to the people who caused her death, hence the name 13 Reasons Why. But Stan pretty much explains everything later in the story so you really don't have to worry about anything.**

 **This story is filled with a lot of triggering material. Self harm, suicide, physical and emotional abuse, depression, mental illness. Don't take any of this lightly, and please read carefully.**

 **The story is told in Stan and Craig's perspectives. Stan is in italics, and Craig is in regular text.**

 **Most of the story is already written, so updates should come once a week.**

 **If you could take a little bit of time to send back some commentary, that would be awesome, and updates would definitely come faster!**

* * *

Craig Tucker was in his room on a Saturday afternoon. It was four weeks after school had ended, and he was still having trouble grasping the fact that when he went back to school that August, it was his final year of high school. Three years had been wasted at South Park High, and there was one more year before he went to college and wasted another four years, only this time, drowning in debt.

The doorbell rung, usually around the time the mail arrived. The Tucker's mailbox had been knocked down earlier that week by some sixth graders and they had yet to upright it again, so whoever brought the mail that day had to go up to the door and send it through the mail slot.

There were five white envelopes, and two orange clasp envelopes.

He went back upstairs to his room, throwing the white envelopes to the side on the couch, keeping the two orange envelopes.

The clasp envelopes were addressed to him, which left him confused. The only time he got any mail was when the dentist or doctor needed to inform him he had an appointment. He undid the clasp on the first envelope, which had instructions written on the front telling him to do so.

The only items in the envelopes were a piece of paper titled "Instructions" and a map, with various locations circled in red marker.

The paper titled Instructions read:

 **1\. Listen**  
 **2\. Go where I tell you**  
 **3\. Pass the tapes on.**

 **Start on #13.**

"What the fuck...?" Craig muttered, immediately reaching over to the second envelope, ripping it open through the middle. Various tape recordings scattered on the his lap and to the floor. All were marked in blue, and as he gathered them up, he realized that were marked in numbers, going from one to thirteen. He picked all of the tapes up, setting them down on his desk. He read over the paper labeled Instructions one more time before picking out the tape labeled 13.

He stared at it for a moment, before setting it down. He stood up, stretching his arms behind his back before walking to his bed. For a moment he dug around underneath before he found his old tape recorder that he used as a kid.

He sat back down, and inserted tape 13.

 _I guess this thing is working. Okay, intro. Lets go._

Craig froze. That was Stan's voice. A voice he hadn't heard in weeks.

 _Hi. I'm Stan Marsh. I'm seventeen years old. I live in South Park, Colorado...and...hm...what else..._

 _Oh yeah!_

 _And if you're listening to this, then congratulations. You're one of the reasons why I'm not here anymore._

 _You're one of the reasons why I killed myself._

Craig rushed to pause the tape, his hands shaking.

He was one of the reasons Stan had killed himself? What the fuck had could he possibly had done?

For a few minutes, he sat in silence, the only noise was his breathing, which had quickened at the sound of Stan's voice.

He took a final deep breath, and pressed play.

 _But I guess its unfair to say this without at least explaining why you're one of the reasons. So on somewhere on the rest of the tapes, why you are one of the reasons is explained._

 _Are you sick to your stomach yet? Have you already shut me off?_

 _Like so many of you felt, like so many of you did, while I was still alive?_

 _This is the first tape. An introductory. With the tapes came a map, and simple directions. Listen to the tapes thirteen to one. You're on thirteen right now, obviously. Then twelve, then eleven..and so on._

 _Every so often, there'll be a location you need to go to. Go to it. This is not a choice._

 _You're being watched. And they'll know when you haven't gone to a location. They know you're on the tapes._

 _Simple enough, right? Listen to the tapes, go to the locations on the map, then pass the tapes on._

 _Right._

 _Go ahead and skip to twelve. Prepare yourself, that just might be you._

Craig swallowed deeply, and picked up tape number 12. Stan had said it wasn't a choice. That he was being watched.

He inserted the tape and pressed play.

 _Before you find out exactly who number twelve is, I want you to leave your house, or wherever the fuck you are, and go to the first location._

 _Street number 1002. Go to that house._

 _But don't worry number twelve, you don't have to move a muscle. You're already there._

He paused the tape again, getting annoyed with how often he was having to do it. The house number was just down the street from his, but he couldn't remember who lived there. Why it had suddenly slipped his mind, he didn't know. His parents wouldn't be home until that Tuesday, having taken a few days to visit his dads parents. Craig hadn't gone, as his grandparents on his dads side didn't...appreciate...the fact his parents had adopted someone of color.

They were racist fucks, in Craig's opinion. It wasn't his fault he was Peruvian. But he didn't care anymore. They were dead to him.

He went back and dug out the headphones for the tape recorder from under his bed. The remaining tapes he shoved into his book bag. He plugged the headphones in, and went downstairs, pressing play and sticking the recorder into his sweatshirt pocket when he reached the bottom.

 _Number twelve. Man, how long have we known each other? Since, what, we were babies? That's fucking insane, dude. Seventeen years..._

 _Kyle, its been great having you-_

Wait, Kyle? Craig knew that Kyle had been an asshole to Stan after freshman year, but enough to send Stan to suicide?

 _-as a best friend. You've really...oh. Wait. I was about to say, 'been there for me', but I don't like telling lies. Especially on these tapes. Its only the truth now._

 _We stopped being best friends at the end of sophomore year. For a really long time, I wondered what I'd done wrong. I'd stay up night after night, thinking about what I could have possibly done to have driven you away again. It really...It really messed me up._

The walk was short, and Craig suspected he wouldn't be there long. When he finally reached Kyle's house, he sat down on the sidewalk outside. Both of the cars were gone from the driveway, so he suspected they had left already for a trip.

 _Especially when I found out I hadn't done anything. It had been entirely your own choice to walk away from a friendship worth fifteen years. That was the first time since seventh grade I'd...cut...myself. When I realized you'd done it yourself._

 _I was angry, and rightfully so. You'd left me with no explanation as to why. I mean...I just wanted an explanation._

 _I'd tried to get one, multiple times. But you'd always turn the other way and walk off. You wouldn't even look at me. It was like you'd gotten some sixth sense to fucking know whenever I even came within ten feet of you._

 _Maybe I did do something. Maybe it was just my depression finally driving you away. Maybe you just couldn't handle my fucking mess of emotions. Oh, sorry about all that, by the way. Emotional stability is kind of hard when you're a depressed, suicidal alcoholic._

Stan sighed deeply, his voice cracking with the next sentence. Craig swallowed, feeling his heart pound in his chest.

 _I just wanted-_

 _I just wanted to know why._

 _I gave up on finding out during the middle of junior year. Obviously you were done with me, and any and all attempts at this point were just too fucking tiring. Physically and mentally._

 _You didn't have to leave Kyle._

 _And most of all, you didn't have to leave without telling me why._

 _Next tape._

Craig slowly felt a headache creeping up. He ran a hand through his hair, groaning quietly in pain. He didn't want to go to the next tape, but he had to. He had to find out which tape he was on, and he had to find out what he'd done.

 _You can leave Kyle's house now. You're done there. Next, I want you to go to street number 28201. Its not far from Kyle's house. You'll be there in five, ten minutes, tops._

Craig stood back up, shivering slightly from the cold. The next house, he knew who lived there. He'd been there when Token had dragged him and Clyde along, so Stan wouldn't suspect anything was happening between Token and...God, Had that really been one of the reasons why Stan killed himself?

 _After this, there's another location I want you to go. But just wait. I don't want you to go there yet. First the house._

Craig sighed, wishing he had brought his truck. He made a mental note to walk back to his house before going to the next location.

 _While you're on your way there, let me tell you story._

 _Isn't that what Stan had already been doing though? Craig snorted, shaking his head._

 _Once upon a time, there was a girl, and there was a boy. The girl and the boy were in love. Well, more like they had been conditioned by themselves and everyone else around them to believe they were. For years they stayed together, denying and repressing their true feelings, and lived in beautiful, beautiful ignorance. But that ignorance, that daydream, would soon be shattered._

 _The girl and the boy, they fought time after time, screaming and screaming...What they had believed to be the perfect fairy tale, had turned into a terrifying nightmare._

 _Are you at Wendy's house yet? If not, it shouldn't be long. I'll go ahead and start._

 _Me and Wendy were together...man...since we were eight? It wasn't a very...steady, relationship though. We were constantly on and off. Sometimes we'd stay together for a few weeks, sometimes a few months, sometimes even just a few days. There was no stability._

Craig had noticed it from the beginning. They obviously were trying for something they couldn't have. Nobody else had really noticed, falling for their act as a happy couple. But Craig had seen right through it.

 _Wendy, I don't...I didn't love you. Not like that. And I don't think you loved me like that either. We just wanted to believe we did._

 _You deserve someone who truly does love you, Wendy. After all those years you put up with my bullshit, you...you need someone who will actually be there for you._

 _But you're still on the list. Deserving of love or not._

 _I feel like everything that comes after this first part is going to be very contradictory to everything I've said before._

Then what was the point of the first part?

 _But Wendy, you kept me in a box. A very small box. Lets be honest, you're clingy. I'm not really saying that to put you into that 'crazy girlfriend' stereotype. Trust me, I'm not. But you're clingy. Get over it, none of us are perfect. I mean come on, if you're on this list, you're way less than perfect._

 _This box you put me in, I didn't have a lot of room to move._

 _I was. Stuck._

 _Your clinginess, I'm pretty sure it had to do with why we tried to stay together so long. You didn't want to let go. You'd dug your perfect, purple nails in, and you weren't letting go, even if it meant leaving a few scars._

Craig couldn't even imagine what Wendy went through listening to this. Well, maybe for now. Maybe when he found his tape he'd understand. He didn't want to though. Not at all.

He sat down on the curb outside Wendy's house, hoping she didn't see him and come outside.

 _You wanted someone perfect. Someone who'd always be by your side, someone who'd always agree with you, someone who loved you..._

 _Obviously you weren't getting that from me. But your parents, my parents, our friends, they thought we were the perfect couple, and you didn't want to let anyone down._

 _So you tried to make me the perfect boyfriend. And that's when you put me in the box._

 _You dragged me everywhere you went, to rallies, to protests, to debates...Jesus, it didn't matter if I had something I needed to do. It was about you. And just about you._

 _You'd see me do something you didn't like, or didn't consider to be appropriate for the 'perfect boyfriend', and you'd make me stop. You tried to change things about my personality just so you could make me into the person you wanted me to be._

 _But it really wasn't worth it. You did it all for nothing._

 _Why was it for nothing though? I guess everyone else doesn't know. Wendy and Token kept it a great secret._

 _Are you confused? Wendy and Token?_

 _Yeah. Wendy and Token._

Craig already knew. He'd wanted to tell Stan, but Token had begged him multiple times not to. And if he had to choose between Token and Stan, he'd choose Token every time. Token had been his best friend, not Stan.

 _I mentioned earlier a second location. Benny's. It's where I saw them together. Its where I found out she was cheating on me. Pause the tape. It'll take a while for you to get there._

Craig took that as his opportunity to go home and take his truck. He placed the headphones around his neck, breathing in deeply.

He knew that Stan didn't like him, but what had he done that was so terrible to make him commit suicide? Every time he thought it over, he couldn't think of anything. He didn't talk to Stan unless they were partnered for a project. That was it.

He dug into his backpack and got out his keys. He dug them into the ignition, started the truck, and pulled out of the driveway. He turned on the radio, hoping that music would clear his head. For the rest of the drive, he drove the tapes out of his mind and focused on the road.

When he finally got to Benny's, it hit him all over again. Stan's death, the tapes...

He put the headphones back over his ears, took the tape recorder out of his pocket, and pressed play.

 _You cheated on me Wendy. With someone who I consider a close friend. Or well, I guess I should say considered. Token, you're dead to me, and don't worry, your tape is coming up real soon._

 _God..._

 _You made me put up with all of your bullshit for so long, only to cheat on me. Why didn't you just fucking break up with me? Why did you put me through all of your perfect boyfriend fuckery and then cheat on me? We could've ended all of this bullshit a long time ago. We could've been happier a long time ago._

 _I could've broken it off too. I know that. But when you have your dad constantly on your back, telling you if you didn't have a girlfriend, then you were obviously a fag, it was kind of hard to bring myself to do it._

 _So on one hand Wendy, you deserve love, but on the other hand, you're a bitch, and that box you forced me into left me trying to find happiness I couldn't get._

 _Next tape._


	2. Tapes 10, 9, and 8

_Before you think anything, no, this isn't Token's tape. But don't worry, he's not too far off. So just wait, its only a little while longer._

Craig drummed his fingers anxiously against the armrest of the truck, hoping that whoever was next would be him. He just wanted this to be over with. He just wanted it to be done.

 _Next up on the map is the 7-11. Its where person number ten works to help pay off college tuition and student loans._

And...It wasn't him.

Who was it then?

 _It should be unnatural, to hate a sibling this much. I can't tell if that sentence I just said was about me hating Shelly, or Shelly hating me._

 _Either way, we hate each other. But you know, for me at first, it was just harmless sibling rivalry that comes with every family with more than one kid. But for Shelly, she...she really hated me. I didn't think much of it, you know? She'd shove me, hit me, kick me, but that's all normal for siblings, right?_

 _No. Wrong. Completely fucking wrong!_

Craig jumped at the sudden raise in Stan's voice, swerving slightly off his lane in the road. He let out a shaky breath, turning the truck back into the right lane. With a second shaky breath, he took a left turn, ignoring the red light that flashed right before he turned. The 7-11 was just down the road.

 _Before I really get into things with Shelly, let me just say, no, its not normal for siblings to hit each other._

He pulled into the parking lot, before he turned up the heat. For a moment, he contemplated going inside, but he decided against it, and took the key out of the ignition. He leaned his back against the seat, closed his eyes, and immersed himself into the sound of Stan's voice.

 _I don't care if they're just kids, you teach them that hitting each other is wrong, because if you don't , you just might be letting one of your kids abuse the other._

 _Abusers aren't always parents, grandparents, aunts or uncles, or teachers...They can be a brother or sister. Shocking. I know._

 _Shelly really had fun with me. I was her own personal little punching bag. All those emotions that mom and dad forced us to keep pent up, she let out on me. Even as a teenager, she'd hit me. I didn't want to hit her back. I mean, she was my sister, and, well, I didn't want to stoop to her level._

 _But it was words too. Not just her fists. When she was a kid, it was harmless stuff, but as she got older, God...it just got worse and worse..._

Stan sounded so weak, almost on the verge of tears. There was a pause, then a loud sigh.

 _My dad...Shelly...All those things they'd say to me..._

 _I don't. I don't want to describe, or say what they'd say to me. Not-not all of it._

 _I feel so weak right now. No...I've always felt weak. How could someone like me be strong? I'm killing myself in a few days. People always say, anyone who kills themself is strong, brave. No. I'm weak. We're weak. This is the easy way out._

 _Like killing yourself is easy_ , Craig thought as he scratched nervously at the scars on his wrist through the fabric of his sweater.

 _I'm so pathetic..._

 _You see? This is how you made me feel Shelly. All my life. Weak. Pathetic. Useless. Damaged. You made me weak, pathetic, useless, damaged. That's what you made me._

 _Don't do this to your kids, Shelly. Please God, if you're gonna have kids, don't do this to them. Please._

There's a few minutes of Stan breathing shakily, probably trying to calm himself down.

 _Next-Next tape._

* * *

 _The wait is over. Token Black, here it is._

Stan's voice was quieter on this tape than the earlier tapes, and in the background Craig can hear the sound of car engines and the wind.

 _You know what's funny? I'm close to Token's house. I'm walking there right now. Not entirely intentionally. I wanted to get out for a little bit, walk around the town. And here I am, totally by chance. There doesn't seem to be anyone home right now. No one's guarding the gate...I could get in right now, if I wanted._

The sound of car engines and wind was replaced with Stan shaking the front gates of Token's house. Stan let out a laugh.

 _I'm not going to, though. I'm just going to keep going. The past is in the past, right? No use now, fighting over it._

 _This'll be short. I've already detailed what happened in Wendy's tape._

 _You knew me and Wendy were together._

 _I assume you just wanted to make her feel better, give her the love that she oh so rightly deserves. I know being with me wasn't easy. I know I put her through a lot of bullshit._

 _Token, it isn't entirely that you were with Wendy while I was with her. It was more what you said to me that-_

Craig paused the tape as he heard his phone ringing through the sound of Stan's voice. He pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and pressed the green button to answer. He moved the headphones around his neck, then holding the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Mom just wanted me to check in, make sure you're okay."

"Hey, Rubes." Craig had never been happier to hear his sister's voice. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I dunno. You know how she is. Always worrying. So...are you okay?"

Craig stared down at the tape recorder. "Yeah. I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I am...slightly less than mediocre."

"That...only partially answers my question." He let out a small, nervous laugh.

"Okay, fine. Yeah, I'm okay. I just-I really don't want to be here." Her tone went from sounding happy, to sounding scared, and Craig hated it. He hated he couldn't be there for her.

"Its only a few more days." He said quietly.

"I know..." She let out a small sigh. "I-I gotta go. Gramps wanted me at dinner by seven. And, well, you-you know how he is when he doesn't get what he wants. I'll call you again tomorrow, if that's okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

"Do you think next time you can come with us?"

"I-I don't know. That's up to Mom, not me."

"Right. Yeah." She sighed. "Bye, Craig."

"Bye, Rubes."

Craig tossed his phone into the passenger seat and ran a hand through his hair. He took a few minutes to calm down his breathing, before he went back to listening to the tapes.

 _-night, after I found out._

 _"Don't you know what you've put her through all these years? You're an asshole, Stan. A real asshole. I hope no one ever falls in love with you. You don't deserve love, if this is how you show it."_

 _You know Token, you're right. I don't deserve love. I never really got it, so I don't really know how to show it. How can the thing that's never been loved, love?_

Craig felt sick to his stomach. Stan really believed that he hadn't been deserving of love. Craig wished he didn't care, he wished that this would stop affecting him the way it was. But this was all too real, too close to home. It was something that couldn't be ignored.

 _I just want to be loved. But I don't deserve it, so I'll never get it._

 _Thank you, Token._

 _That's all I can say. Thank you. You made me realize that this love I've been striving for all this time, I don't deserve it at all._

 _Next tape._

* * *

 _To start, I'd just like to say, you're an asshole. You're a fucking asshole, and I hope you rot in Hell. Nobody alive likes you, and when you do rot in Hell, even Satan's going to be disgusted by how terrible you are._

If this was his tape, Craig couldn't help but wonder what exactly he had done to Stan that would have caused him to say shit like that about him.

 _The next location on your map is South Park Church. You're gonna need the presence of God while listening to this tape._

Craig let out a small groan as he sat back up and put the key back in ignition. He almost wanted to text Stan that he owed him gas money, for making him drive all these places. But what was the point in trying to talk to a dead boy?

 _Cartman, you're a sick, twisted bastard, and you need serious psychological help. Too bad you can't afford it._

 _Oh, I'm sorry, was that too harsh?_

"A little bit..." Craig muttered, letting out a small laugh.

 _Damn._

 _Cartman, I've known you for so long. Sometimes, I considered you a friend. But most of the time, I was just waiting for you to leave me the fuck alone. But you never did. Because if me, Kyle, and Kenny weren't there, then you didn't have anyone but your mom and your shitty stuffed animals. To be honest, its still true. You still talk to them don't you? No one else will talk to you, so you have to go for second best._

 _But this tape isn't to talk about how alone Eric Cartman is, even though I'd love to go on and on about that._

Craig couldn't tell if this tape was to detail why Cartman was one of the reasons Stan killed himself, or if it was just to shit on Cartman's entire being. At the same time, was there really a difference?

 _Maybe if you hadn't been such a narcissistic, deranged sociopath, then you'd actually have friends and not people who put up with your bullshit because they pity your sorry ass._

 _I've used up most of the insults I had ready to use during your tape, so lets get to the basics. You're a bully, to put it simply._

 _You bring others down for your own personal, emotional gain._

 _I was one of the people you brought down._

 _You love it, don't you? People hate you, but your words still get to them. Creep into their heads and consume their thoughts. You know, you're one of the reasons Kenny isn't here anymore, either._

Luckily there weren't any cars in the parking lot to the Church. He couldn't stand to be around people right now. Not listening to this.

 _He was your favorite, so your brought him down the hardest. And when he killed himself, you probably couldn't decide whether to be excited your nasty little words were enough to do that to someone or, if you should be sad because your favorite test subject was gone._

 _You went pretty easy on me, while Kenny was here. Nothing I couldn't handle, but when Kenny was gone, you really started having fun with me._

 _Kyle bored you, years back. You'd used up all of your insults, and anything between you two was just the same conversation and argument, over and over. Kenny was gone, and you didn't need Kyle anymore, because you had me._

 _It was bad enough, with my dad and with Shelly, but adding you to the bunch...God..._

The venom in Stan's voice was replaced with a shakiness that was becoming more commonplace throughout the tapes.

 _When you started with me, I had been really hoping for a miracle. Something to show me that living was worth it, that there was such a thing as happiness._

 _Maybe this is why I don't believe in God anymore. Because every time I asked for a miracle, I got a nightmare._

 _Cartman, I don't know how many times you told me that if I was so depressed, I should just end it all. I hope you're happy. Because I'm dead, and you're one of the reasons why. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Me to kill myself?_

 _If that's what you wanted, then why are you so sick to your stomach. I know you are. Two people Cartman. Two fucking people are dead, because of you. If that can't make you sick, then I don't know what will._

 _Go to the next tape, and while you're at it, go to Starks Pond._

 _Take a break from listening to the tapes, while you're on your way there. You deserve it._


	3. Tapes 7 Through 2

**Sorry for not updating in months. I kinda forgot, since I've already uploaded all of this on AO3. But here ya'll are.**

The next time Craig had checked his phone, he noticed he had two missed calls from Wendy. He wasn't entirely sure he could stomach talking to her, or anyone else on the tapes. But he felt he owed something to her. They were both on the tapes. They both knew what the other was going through.

With a shaky sigh, he called her back.

"Craig!" Wendy sounded relieved, letting out a large sigh. "I'm so glad you called me."

"Why?"

"You know why. You're on the tapes too." She paused. "I need to talk to you though. About the tapes. Which one are you on right now?"

"I just finished eight."

"Good. You're at Stark's Pond, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah." He bit his lip.

Another pause. "I'll be there in thirty minutes. Don't listen to tape seven just yet."

She hung up, leaving Craig dreading whatever was on tape seven. At this point, it was obvious it was his. But he wasn't ready. Not for whatever was on it. He didn't think he'd ever be ready.

* * *

Sitting and waiting for Wendy was agony. He wanted to ignore the tapes. He wanted to throw them out. To forget they had ever existed. Most of all, he wanted to bring Stan back. Stan hadn't deserved any of this. He should have gotten something better.

Craig was on the verge of slipping into sleep when there was a knock on the window. He rolled it down, revealing Wendy. The bags under her eyes were more prominent than they had ever been, and there was nothing but emptiness in her smile. It was forced. Fake.

"You don't have to keep appearances up around me, Testaburger." Craig said as he shoved the tape recorder and the headphones into his backpack and threw it to the backseat. "Get in on the passenger side."

"Well, that's a hell of a greeting." Wendy commented with a laugh, before moving to the passenger side. She opened the door before sitting down and slamming it shut.

"So." Craig said, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his hair. "Lets just go ahead and skip the bullshit. What do you want?"

She bit her lip, closing her eyes. "You shouldn't be on the tapes, Craig. At least, I don't think you should."

That. That was confusing. "What?"

"You didn't do anything wrong." She brushed her bangs from her eyes. "I'm-I'm not saying you shouldn't listen to the tape. Because you should. You need to. You need closure."

"Closure?"

"You're not over Stan's death."

"I would be, if it hadn't been for the goddamn tapes."

"Craig, its more than the tapes. I know you cared about Stan. We all did."

"I didn't-"

"I'm not saying you two were the best of pals and his death is causing you total soul crushing grief, okay?" She sighed, rubbing her forehead like she was about to get a headache. "I'm just saying that you're sad, and you miss him, and you need closure."

"I'm confused. Is this about me getting closure or about me not belonging on the tapes?"

"You said no bullshit, so here it is. You don't belong on the tapes. You didn't do anything wrong. I don't want you to think you did anything, and I don't want you to feel that you took part in Stan's suicide. But, you still need to listen to it, because it's going to help you accept what's happening right now, and that Stan is dead. And it's going to help you move on."

He sighed, leaning back against the seat. "I didn't realize you were a therapist."

She gave a small smile. "I'm not trying to be a therapist. I'm trying to be your friend."

"Why?"

"Because you need someone to lean on right now. You need a crutch. And I don't mind supporting that weight." She wiped at her eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

"Are you sure I'm the one that needs a crutch right now?"

She tried to keep her smile, but her face fell, and finally she broke. She covered her eyes with her hand, slumping forward. Her shoulders shook and sobs racked her body.

It was then he noticed how tangled her hair was. How much paler she looked since Stan had been announced as dead.

"I want him back." She whispered. With a small sniffle, she sat back up, pulling her knees to her chest. "I want him to come back. I can't do this without him."

"He didn't make you happy." Craig muttered, staring down at his lap.

"Yes he did." She said. "I should've broken it off for good. I loved him. I still love him. But not like that. Never like that."

"Why didn't you break it off then?"

"I'd fooled myself into thinking that I was in love with him."

"Why'd you cheat on him then?"

"I didn't want to leave him. I knew if I broke it off he'd refuse to talk to me. And who would he have then? His mom gave up a long time ago. Kyle left. Kenny left. Cartman...God..." She swallowed, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. "He would be alone. But I was selfish, even when I wanted what was best for him. I was so fucking selfish..."

"Are you still with Token?"

"I broke it off with him as soon as I listened to my tape."

"Do you have a crutch?" He asked, looking from his lap to her.

"Unless you count the ones I got from when I broke my leg, no." She laughed, shaking her head.

He thought it over for a moment, gnawing on the inside of his cheek, before he finally decided what to say.

"I'm not going to carry this weight for you. And I don't want you to carry mine. Lets just stop with the whole 'crutch' and 'carry the weight' shit. But obviously, we're both kinda alone in this, so I don't see why we can't at least...be here for each other. "

It was weird. He wasn't usually like this. So open to someone he barely talked to. But she wanted to be here for him, and no one else who had gotten the tapes so far had done that. He owed it to her to be there for her as well.

She nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice." She sighed, leaning back against the seat and closing her eyes.

He didn't know how much time had passed as they sat in his truck, before she finally sat up. "You still need to listen to the rest of the tapes." She said, sitting back up.

"Fuck." Craig muttered, sighing. He sat up, and pulled his book bag back to the front seat. He dug around before grabbing tape seven and the tape recorder.

"No headphones?" Wendy asked when he didn't pull his headphones back out.

Craig shrugged. "Don't need them." He pressed play.

 _Craig Tucker. Lucky number seven. You might be thinking, Craig, 'why the Hell am I on here'? I guess its fair. We never really were close, and I know you don't remember that night. If you did, you'd have beaten the shit out of me the next day._

 _But guess what babe, you're still on here. So sit back, relax, and listen to your little own personal tale._

 _Who is Craig Tucker? Why is he so interesting? Is it his 'stoicness'? His apathy? His abnormal height? Like, Jesus Christ dude. 6'10? That's just not normal._

 _But...we just don't know why Craig is so interesting. But rumors about Craig have always floated throughout our school, probably throughout the whole town. How he's a gang member, a serial killer, a drug addict. I remember at one point there was a rumor that he was a male prostitute. People loved the rumors, but the truth? Either they didn't know, or they didn't care. Lies are so much more fun than the truth, aren't they?_

 _I don't think very many people really have gotten to know who Craig really is. I know that he has his gang of assholes, but even then, it seems the only people he's ever really opened up to are Token and Clyde._

 _And...well..._

 _Me._

 _But Stan, you just said you and Craig weren't close._

 _We weren't. Trust me, we weren't._

 _But...even then, I broke through the wall that Craig's built up over the last seventeen years of his life. I guess you could say I came in like a wrecking ball. What? Not funny? Come on, these tapes are so morbid. I thought a little joke would help lighten things up. No? Okay._

 _Craig never gets drunk at parties. And he doesn't get high. He doesn't touch anything._

 _Why is this important?_

 _Well, Craig's been seemingly clean, until three weeks ago, when I got him drunk._

 _It was an asshole move, especially from someone who's been dealing with alcoholism since I was ten. But I didn't know how else to get him to talk._

 _It's hard enough trying to get his eyebrows to raise more than a centimeter, but trying to get him to talk to you if he doesn't care about you or what you have to say is a whole new feat._

 _I wanted to know who he was. Even knowing him for seventeen years got me practically nothing. I wanted to know his life story. I don't know why he interested me so much suddenly. But I had to know, who is Craig Tucker?_

 _So, to find out, I got him drunk. Its funny, seeing how much people can change with alcohol in their system. Craig is usually so reserved...It was...weird, seeing him open up so easily._

 _I remember the night really clearly. The party was at Stark's Pond. Something to celebrate the end of the school year. Everyone went, of course. It wasn't like there was anything else to do or anywhere else better to be._

 _I waited a couple hours before I went up to Craig. I was so nervous. What if it didn't work? What if he found out what I was trying to do? I almost didn't go through with it, to be honest. Maybe if I hadn't things would be different. But its too late now._

 _I found him by the edge of the water, sitting by himself and doing only god knows what on his phone. I nudged him with my foot, because I was worried he'd snap my wrist if I touched him with my hand._

 _"What?" Is all he said to me, not even looking up._

 _"I just want to talk. Jeez." I sat down beside him, and held out a cup. He stared at it for a few moments._

 _"You know I don't drink." He said it really quietly, it actually kind of scared me. He sounded scared too, almost._

 _"Just one."_

 _"No, Stan." Suddenly we were to first name basis._

 _"Dude. Its not gonna kill you."_

 _He looked away for a second, setting his phone down on his lap._

 _"Okay." He said, with this really loud, defeated sigh. "Just one." Then he got this really weird look in his eyes. "Just. One."_

 _One ended up turning into five. Five turned into seven. And he was gone._

 _Like I said earlier, it was really weird seeing him open up. He was laughing, smiling, and I could barely make out what he was saying half the time. It was probably the first time either of us had actually laughed in a while._

 _The party was slowly starting to die down when I started asking him questions. Nothing in particular, just...things that would help me make out who this asshole really is._

 _And who is Craig Tucker? You must all be wondering. Well, there's a simple answer to that._

 _Nobody. Craig Tucker is nobody._

 _Craig told me he's depressed. That he has to take pills to even moderately function._

 _But I don't get it. Craig...well lets face it. He has, everything. A loving family, friends who actually care about him..._

 _Why is he depressed? What could possibly cause him to be depressed?_

 _I ended up leaving him alone drunk at the party. I don't know how he got home from the party. Token or Wendy maybe. In all honesty, I really don't fucking care._

 _So why is Craig on the list? Its not like he necessarily did anything bad._

 _Well Craig, you gave me a new perspective._

 _You showed me that no matter how perfect the world can be, you will still feel like shit. You will still be trapped in Hell._

 _You showed me that there is no escape._

 _You didn't do it on purpose, and I get that. I totally get that._

 _But you're still on these tapes._

 _Because you are still one of the reasons why._

 _Next tape._

* * *

Craig and Wendy sat in silence for the next few minutes as Craig tried to process everything that Stan had just said.

"You said I didn't do anything..." Craig finally muttered, swallowing.

"You didn't, Craig." Wendy said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "And even if you did do something, it wasn't intentional." She sighed. "Plus, Stan was the one who got you drunk."

"I'm the one who took the drink. I'm the one who kept drinking. Its my fault." He pushed the car door open.

"Craig, what are you doing?" She asked, before he slammed the door back shut. She followed him out, forgetting to close the door. "Craig!"

She followed him down to the water, where he sat down at the very edge. She sat down beside him. "Craig..."

He stared down into the water, an unreadable look on his face. "I promised my mom something. A while back. I think it was before the party by a few days. I don't know." He put his head in his hands, letting out a large sigh. "I promised her I wasn't going to drink. How fucking stupid is that? Did she seriously expect me to go through with it?"

"Why did you then, if you knew it was stupid?"

He swallowed, shaking his head. "I don't know."

"Yes you do. Tell me."

"She. She needed to hear it."

"Why?"

"My grandpa. My dad. Both fucking useless drunks." He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms.

"I thought your dad-"

His head snapped back up. "What did you think? That my dad was some fucking upstanding citizen? Where did you hear it from? Your parents?"

She nodded.

"Oh! Of course! This is why no one ever fucking believes me!" He pulled the sleeve to his sweater all the way up to his forearm. Two black bruises, like someone had grabbed his arm and yanked it. "Where do you think those came from?"

"You-You told someone, didn't you?" She took his arm in her hands, looking over the bruises "Craig, you've told someone?"

"Yeah." Craig said, pulling his arm out of her grasp. "I told the guidance counselor. Eighth grade and last year. Even showed them the fucking bruises. And you know what they did in response? Called my dad. Told him what I said. And he explained it, that I just get into fights, that I lie sometimes to get my way. And then he fucking dragged my ass home, and gave me some more of these." He pulled his sleeves back down.

"You should've kept trying. Someone would've believed you eventually. I would've beli-"

"I even told Token and Clyde." Craig said suddenly, cutting her off. "We've been friends for so long, I thought they'd believe me. But y'know what they told me? 'That's not funny, that's just sick', like I was making a fucking joke." He laughed. "If my closest friends wouldn't even fucking believe me, then why would anyone else?"

"Why hasn't your mom done anything? Why hasn't she divorced him?"

"We already have to borrow money from my grandparents. Do you really think divorcing my dad is gonna make things any better?"

Wendy sighed. "Do you remember the party at all?"

Craig shook his head.

"Is what Stan said true? That you're...depressed?"

Craig picked at his sleeves. "Yeah." He said, shrugging. "I guess."

"You guess? Craig, you're-if you're taking pills then you should've been diagnosed with depression."

"Why did you ask then?"

She ran a hand through her hair as she stared down at the ground, shaking her head slightly. "I don't know."

Craig turned to look back at his truck. "I should listen to the rest of the tapes, shouldn't I?"

"Its part of the rules, isn't it?"

They both made their way back to the truck, not speaking to one another.

"You brought your car, right?" Craig asked, opening the door to the drivers side.

"Yeah. I guess I should go then." She went to turn around, before stopping herself. "Uh, Craig?"

"Yeah?"

"I almost forgot. Can you meet me down at this address tomorrow morning?" She reached into her pocket, before holding out a piece of paper.

He stared down at it for a moment, before taking it. He thought about it for a moment, letting out a small sigh. "Yeah."

"Good." She smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

He shoved the piece of paper into his pocket, before sitting back in the truck.

He'd finish the tapes at home, he decided, before starting up the truck, and starting his way back home.


	4. Tape 1

**Accidentally uploaded chapter 3 again instead of 4. Whoops. Anyways, here it is!**

* * *

 _The final location on your map. My house. Go there._

 _Randy Marsh. Number fucking one. Hi, dad._

 _Are you drunk right now? Has hearing my voice after I've died driven you to the bottom of the bottle? I doubt it. You didn't care while I was alive. Why would you care now?_

 _Seventeen years, dad. Seventeen fucking years._

 _I was never good enough for you. I did everything I could to make you and mom happy. But it still wasn't enough._

 _I wish I could say I hated you, but I don't. I don't hate you. I can't hate you. I pity you, because you're so pathetic._

 _You always said I had to be a man. But you're such a fucking hypocrite. You're not a man. You're a fucking coward. A drunk. A cheater. A liar. An abuser..._

 _You never loved mom. You never loved me or Shelly._

 _God, you're an amazing actor. You know that? You had us fucking fooled for so long. I bet you even had yourself fooled. But your little act cracked dad. I'm done believing. I'm done being fooled._

 _Everything you've ever said to me, everything you've ever done, its the reason why you're on this tape. And you're the main fucking reason that I killed myself. So congrats dad, you're number one. You're a real fucking champ._

 _Guess what dad. You know all those years you told me not to be a fag? You told me that being gay was disgusting? Its really backfired on you. Because guess what? I'm gay!_

 _Maybe that'll drive you to the bottom of the bottle, if you're not already there._

 _You know...you said this thing to me, a couple years ago. I've thought about it a lot. Especially recently, because you said it again. Not exactly the same way, but it still held the same meaning. Same meaning, worse effects._

 _"You know son, I really wonder why me and your mom ever had a second kid."_

 _"Stan, I can't help but wonder why me and your mom even had you."_

 _If there is anything you should never say to your child, that's fucking it._

 _You never tell your child, 'I wonder why we ever bothered having you'. You don't say that. You just don't._

 _I tried so hard dad. It was all for you. For your approval. For your love._

 _I just wanted you to love me. Would it have been that hard? I'm your kid. I'm your fucking son._

 _I'm...I'm actually kind of glad that I'm killing myself, you know? I can't...I can't even imagine being a dad after having one like you. What if I had been the same way to my kids? That's scared me for so long...That I would've been like you. So this is good, me dying._

 _I ran out of tapes, so here is my final goodbye._

 _I'm home alone. Mom and dad are out right now, doing only God knows what. Shelly's out with her boyfriend. They don't know about any of this...I've tried so hard to hide it. Nobody knows. But they will soon. After I mail the tapes...After-They'll know..._

 _I have the pills right here...I've been saving up for this. Three bottles._

 _I-I wonder who's gonna find my body. Maybe mom, maybe you dad...Hell, maybe-maybe even Kyle or Cartman._

 _Everything feels so right now...So peaceful._

 _This is it. This is the happiness that I've been looking for. I've found it. All I've had to do was kill myself..._

 _I'll see you all in Hell._

 _Goodbye._

* * *

The house of the person on tape number six was close enough to his house that Craig could walk to deliver the tapes. Some of the people on the tapes after his, he had no idea who they were. But they'd all taken part in something much greater than them, whether they liked it or not.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out. Wendy was calling him.

"Hey. You okay?" He said, shoving the envelopes into the mailbox.

"Hey, yeah-yeah I'm fine. Are you still meeting up with me where I said to?"

"Yeah, of course." He shut the mailbox as she breathed a sigh of relief, and he turned and started his walk towards the graveyard.


End file.
